


you weren't supposed to laugh!

by ellipsesificate



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsesificate/pseuds/ellipsesificate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jeff calls shortly after midnight in a panic, Shirley handles it as any saint would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you weren't supposed to laugh!

**Author's Note:**

> this was initially going to be longer, but this ended up being dumb enough and i'm just really impatient whoops.

When Jeff calls shortly after midnight in a panic, Shirley handles it as any saint would.  She takes the call in the kitchen and sleepily taps her fingers against the table as he blathers out apologies and justifications that she accepts with numerous iterations of “it’s okay, dear” and “you know I’m always here for you”.  When he tells her what the crisis is, she hangs up.  A pregnant woman has to have her limits.

She ignores the second and third calls, but when she can hear Elijah and Jordan complaining from their rooms and Andre is sitting up with hazy threats to do very unkind things to the caller’s hair, she concedes defeat and answers the fourth, if only to give Jeff a piece of her mind.

“Jeffrey Winger, I swear on sweet Baby Jesus’ sacrifice that if you call me at ass o’clock in the morning _ever again_ , I wi—”

“Oh thank god, Shirley, I am _so_ sorry but you really don’t understand how much we need you right now, please, I am _begging_.”

The intensity of his hysteria does give her pause, because Jeff is only this agitated over big issues (at least, what he considers to be a big issue).  Then she remembers the cause of his distress.  “Jeffrey, you’re being ridiculous.  There is absolutely nothing I can do or _need_ to do.  It’s just…God’s will.  They’ll go away, or you could just check the internet for—”

“We _have!_   I have literally tried every known remedy, and he tried some family techniques that are never going to happen in my apartment ever again.  This has been going on since Friday night and I.  Can’t.  _Sleep_.”

His choked despair softens her resolve, if only enough for Shirley to adopt her sweetie-voice.  “Honey, listen…while I’m sure your, ah, ‘issue’ is _very_ pressing, it is also _very_ late and I just don’t know what I could possibly do.”

“…you could come over and help us.”

Oh Lord, give her strength.  “Jeffrey, I don’t think you quite understand what I meant by _very late_.”

“I’ll pick you up and drive you.”

“I’m pregnant and _tired,_ Jeffrey!  We have school tomorrow!”

“This is going to sound really creepy, but I’m outside your house right now.”

Sure enough, she looks out the window and there was the Lexus, with Jeffrey offering a sheepish wave from the front seat.  Shirley hoped that she would not have to pray for forgiveness in the morning.

* * *

 

It takes ten minutes convince Andre that she would be back tomorrow and that this was a legitimate medical emergency (which was sort of true, but she would probably have to talk about it during confessional anyways), and another twenty minutes to drive to Jeff’s apartment.  The two of them spend it in an awkward silence, because she sure as hell was not going to give Jeff the chance to defend his actions until she saw the damage for herself.

She does admit that the weekend had not been kind to Jeff.  There are bags under his eyes and his hair is mussed in only a semi-attractive way that suggests he hasn’t been able to properly style it for the past day.  That doesn’t mean that he’s off the hook, but it does make her more willing to assess the problem herself.

Jeff’s hands are shaking as he unlocks his door and she can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or nerves, but he ushers her in anyways and points her towards the problem as he stumbles into the kitchenette, muttering about coffee.

“Benjamin Chang,” Shirley says to the heap of blankets gathered on Jeff’s couch, “what in the Lord’s name is your _damn_ _problem_.”

The blankets shift and Chang’s eyes gleam from the folds.  “It’s not my problem!  It’s Winger’s, get mad at _him!_ ”

“You’re the one who kept—!”

“I intend to get mad at _both_ of you.”  Chang retreats from the bite of her voice and somewhere behind her Jeff fumbles the coffee mugs.  “Now, I don’t think that the two of you have a good reason for dragging a pregnant woman away from sleep and away from her family, two sugars please, Jeffrey, and if this isn’t worth the good Lord’s time—”

“You don’t understand!” Jeff says, and she thinks that Chang is piping up in agreement from behind the protection of his shelter, but not in words, exactly.

“Excuse me, Chang.”  Shirley approaches the couch, cautiously easing herself onto the edge without infringing on his territory and setting her purse on the coffee table.  “What did you just say?”

The blankets contract, and if Chang curls himself any further into the makeshift cocoon he’s going to end up suffocating, so when he talks again Shirley starts to peel back the covers.  “I didn’t say anything, that was part of the _problem_ , I can’t stop the—”

He’s cut off just as she pulls a blanket half-off his face, and she’s not sure if the sound is more of a warble or a squeak but it’s definitely a mixture of both, with a hint of hoarse bray at the tail end of it.  The clattering of Jeff preparing coffee behind them disappears.

There is about ten seconds of silence before she can no longer hold back a snort.  “That was the most ridiculous sound I have ever heard in my _life_.”

Chang grimaces and yanks at the blankets, disappearing with another hiccup that leaves Jeff slumped against the kitchenette counter and howling with laughter.  “Oh my god I _know_ ,” he gasps out, “and it actually gets even more ridiculous every time you hear it!  I haven’t laughed this much since the last time Abed did his turtle face…”

Shirley could claim that her burst of laughter was for the mention of the famous turtle face and not for the next hiccup barely muffled by the blankets, but she doubted that Chang would believe that even if it were true.  “Hee hee…oh, Chang, come out, it’s not that bad…”

“NO.”  One foot breaks free of the cocoon with a sulky kick.  “This was a _stupid_ idea.  I really thought that you wouldn’t…argh!”

“That I wouldn’t _what?_ ”  Chang hiccups before Shirley can receive answer, and then Shirley has to press both hands against her mouth so that the pitch of her giggles wouldn’t wake the neighbours.  A pointless act, as Jeff’s laughter sends two mugs toppling on the counter.

“That!” Chang says over Jeff trying to stop laughing long to jump away from the spilled coffee and swear.  “We thought you wouldn’t _laugh!_ ”

“ _You_ thought she wouldn’t laugh,” Jeff says as he yanks paper towel out of a cupboard and begins wiping off the counter.  “I told you that anyone would laugh at that, _especially_ Shirley.  But nooooo, apparently it was so crucial to you that Shirley come and help—”

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a hair gel snorting _douche_ all the time I wouldn’t want to _stab your face._ ”

“Okay, first of all, I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t threaten my life or my face while you were staying here, and second, I didn’t _snort_ it.  I was just checking to make sure that it was the right scent, the label…”

“Hold _up_.”  Shirley revelled in the immediate silence for a moment before continuing.  “ _Chang_.  Was it really necessary to have me dragged out of bed because Jeff was _laughing_ at you?  What am I even supposed to do?  I mean, I could try prayer but I don’t think that even God could do very much for you.”

Chang mumbles something like “you weren’t supposed to laugh”, so Shirley turns on Jeff instead.  She has no patience for whatever misconceptions Chang has about their relationship.

“And you, can’t you just restrain yourself and not laugh at him?  This is just silly; there is no good reason why you can’t just let him hiccup in peace, and more importantly _not cater to him_.”

The coffee-soaked lumps of paper towel drop onto the counter with a _plop_ as Jeff throws his hands in the air.  “You think I didn’t try?!  I told you, I’ve been trying to deal with this all weekend, but he just won’t stop hiccupping and it keeps sounding even more ridiculous.  I’m pretty sure that that sound can’t even be classified as a hiccup!  They aren’t supposed to sound like that!  But typically enough, his does and you would think I’d be used to it by now but I’m not, because it is literally the dumbest sound and call me an asshole but I can’t _not_ laugh at it!  And I can’t deal with it by myself, so when he asked for you, I…I gave in.”

And with that Jeff wilts against the counter, and she knows that vestiges of coffee are seeping into the sleeves of what is mostly likely a pricey shirt.  Shirley sighs, half-rising from her seat with a sympathetic but firm, “ _Jeffrey._ ”  When another hiccup sounds from Chang’s blankets, she has to sit back down with an undignified guffaw.  Jeff jerks against the counter, unable to keep back a bark of laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Shirley huffs between her chortling, “maybe you have a teensy point.  It _is_ really hard not to laugh at…”

She trails off at the sound of muffled sniffles and turns to the blankets with wide eyes.  Jeff stops laughing and groans, hands flying to his face.  “Right, I didn’t mention.  This is the actual worse part.  It’s actually kind of gross, but he’s such a…he’s _sensitive_ , okay, and I’m not good around tears, so when he asked for you…yeah.  I should have said something.  My bad.”

Shirley shoots him a glare before forcing her attention back to the blankets.  “Chang.  Please don’t be crying.”  She wants to add something similar to _everything about having to deal with you is awful enough without having to acknowledge that you have feelings_ , but she can’t find a way to word that kindly enough to put an end his distress.  When the blankets convulse with a sob anyways, she casts her gaze heavenward and grimaces.  “Well, then…okay.  We can do this.  And for the love of God please get out from those blankets.  It’s hard enough trying to take this whole damn thing seriously.”

The crying subsides but the blankets don’t move, so with a scowl Shirley reaches over and starts to yank them away.  Chang howls and thrashes, his attempts to escape thwarted by the cloth tangling around his legs.  Jeff watched from the counter in hushed awe as Shirley ruthlessly ripped away each layer of Chang’s protection, until finally there was only one blanket left.

Shirley tugged, but Chang’s grip was surprisingly steadfast for someone with such skinny wrists.  He tries to twist away, still doggedly pulling the blanket above his head, but a particularly fervent jerk on Shirley’s part sends finally frees the blanket from his clutches.

If the weekend hadn’t been kind to Jeff, then it had shanked Chang in a dark alley and made off with his wallet and shoes.  His face haggard and blotchy, eyes rimmed red and watery and nostrils crusted with the evidence of his past tears.  Welts stood out stark on his cheeks as his mouth flattened into a thin line.

Shirley drew back, hands fisting into the blanket as Chang shuffled to the other end of the couch in sullen defeat.  “We tried to use duct tape earlier,” Jeff explains before she can ask.  “A lot of it.  They ended up going through his nose instead, it was actually worse.  I don’t even think these are real hiccups.  It’s probably just a singularly Chang thing.”

“Shut it, Winger.”

“Aha.”  Shirley releases the blanket and lets it fall to the floor to join the others.  She takes a deep breath.  “If you already tried to duct tape his mouth shut…then I honestly don’t have a damn clue.”

Chang hiccups.

* * *

 

By half past two, Jeff had managed to successfully make a pot of coffee without spilling it.  Chang spills his cup over Shirley’s lap, interrupting her ‘scary story’ of teenagers thinking impure thoughts during mass and being smote to death, which was unfortunate as she was sure that it would spook the hiccups right out of him.  It takes several minutes of trying to stop laughing and yelling before she can smack him over the head. 

By quarter past three, Chang is curled on top of the fridge and wailing, “I don’t want any more water, please, I’ll try the breath holding thing again, just enough with the _water!_ ”  It takes promising him that they have his back next time Duncan accuses him of switching out his vodka for flat Sprite again to coax him down.

By four, the apartment door is opened to a bleary-eyed neighbour, who assures them that while he is not judging Jeff and his lover for their strange and likely drug-assisted “sexcapades”, he is not appreciative of them having such a high-pitched third for the night so would they please wrap up their activities for the night, or take them elsewhere?  When he leaves, Jeff locks himself in the bathroom.

Half an hour later Jeff emerges with a despairing snicker at the latest rash of hiccups.  He joins them on the couch, where Chang has collapsed into Shirley’s side with teary apologies for being pathetic in front of his possible unborn child as Shirley shoves her fist against mouth to keep quiet.

A few minutes of rare silence later, Shirley speaks up.  “I have an idea.  Do you still have the duct tape?”

“We already tried duct tape,” Jeff murmurs, sagging in his seat.

“Not for him.”

At ten past five Jeff and Shirley can only make grunts and huff through their noses when Chang hiccups.  He grins for the first time that night.


End file.
